I’m NOT talking to Momma and you can’t make me. Just sayin’. We arrived in a placed called Atlanta a couple of days ago and are staying with my human aunt and uncle. It’s a nice house but apparently Momma believes there are rules for me to follow. You’re gonna laugh your ass off when you read this.
Rule 1: I’m not allowed on the kitchen counters. – I never followed this rule at home. Why would I start now?
Rule 2: I’m not allowed to go upstairs. – That lasted about two minutes.
Rule 3: I’m not allowed to be rude. – I’ve never laughed so hard in my life.
Rule 4: This is Max’s house. – Who the hell is Max?
Even though I’m NOT talking to Momma, I did ask her about Max. She told me that Max is the house cat. Really? I don’t think so. This Max cat hasn’t even made an appearance. If he was a REAL cat, he would have come downstairs and greeted me.
Momma asked me what I would do if Max did greet me. I told her I would walk right up to Max, sniff him, hiss at him, knock him over, and slap him several times. Then I would look him right in the eye and say, “There’s a new sheriff in town and it sure as hell isn’t you.”
I don’t care what house I’m in, whether it’s mine or not. I AM the Supervisory Cat-in-Charge!